


You Fall

by Phosphenes (YoureNotMyProblem)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Clexa, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3503984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoureNotMyProblem/pseuds/Phosphenes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was a river, and you were too ignorant to fight the current. You drowned before you could even tell the difference between water and air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Playing around with 2nd person because why not. Lots of emo Lexa.

You still think about Kostia. It doesn’t hurt as much, but you do feel something, a tug, a push, like being hit in the chest. The sensation is far from the raw pain and rage that first came with her death, but it was still an echo, and it still hits you in surprising waves, sometimes, when you have too much time to yourself.

She had dark skin, and darker eyes. When you looked at her it was warm and calming and made you fall in love all over again. You were so young when you met her. Not in years, but in experience. Holding her made you feel full to the brim. Being away from her was like withering. You said I love you so many times the words ran together into one language only the two of you could understand. With her you felt powerful, you felt that you could crush mountains, conquer nations, if only you had Kostia by your side. You thought what you felt with her could only make you stronger.

\---

You were wrong.

\---

You trained, you fought, you hunted, but the most dangerous weapon was not one hanging from your belt, it was her, forged especially to wound you. She was deadly, and you could not help but love her. It happened quickly, she was a river and you were too ignorant to fight the current. You drowned before you could even tell the difference between water and air.

The ice queen sent you her head on a spike, the courier who delivered it wore a grim expression as he gave you his queen’s regards, and you could tell he took no pleasure in his task. You cut him down where he stood regardless. That was the first time the death of an enemy fell heavy on your shoulders, his death did not fill your emptyness. Your hands are still not clean of his blood.

\---

You slaughter all of the northern army. More than half of the scars across your chest are from warriors reluctantly fighting for a tyrannical queen. You led your army on the Ice Nation intending to take the queen prisoner, to make her suffer as you had suffered, to give her a slow death. When you saw her, all preconceived plans left your mind, you do not remember killing her, but you remembered her screams.

Later, you overheard guards talking outside of your tent, talking about you. You did not hear much, but you know the words savage, animal, and frightening left their lips.

Your emotions would never again have such power over you.

\---

Meeting Clarke was like taking a breath after being underwater too long. She is a leader, and you think you should have hated her, but when she comes into your tent, begging for the safety of her people, a part of you wants to say yes.

You sentence her lover to death. When she walks away from him, her hands coated in his blood, your mind begins whisper,  _Kostia, Kostia, Kostia_ , until it turns to a scream. You relive every moment with her. That night you do not sleep.

\---

Clarke is different. Where Kostia was smooth and reckless and _please don’t go_ Clarke is rough, careful, _look before you leap_. Kissing her is slow, asking gently for permission. She pulls away and you’re not surprised. Finn’s death is too fresh, you think a part of you knew that. The kiss is not an announcement or declaration, it is forgiveness.

You are so different, but this part of you, the part that must make impossible decisions, the part that decides who lives and who dies, this is the same. She was born to be this, just as you were.

When you see Clarke it is less like drowning and more like stumbling, but this time you know where to put your feet, you don’t fall.

\---

Leaving Clarke at Mount Weather is what you had to do. She looks at you, and the tears in her eyes remind you of the stars she was born in. She is strong, she is stronger than anyone should have to be, but you’re afraid that you’ve broken her.

A part of you hopes she will understand, because she is like you, she knows why you did this, she might be able to forgive you. You know you will not forgive yourself.

On the way back to camp you want to scream, but you don’t, you swallow, you clench your teeth and your fists. Your cries eat you away from the inside out.

Leaving Clarke is what you _had to do_.

You hate yourself anyway.

\---

She does forgive you, eventually. There are three months where the only times she acknowledges your existence is in meetings, and even when she addresses your ideas for hunting parties or new homes her gaze is closed, you feel like you’re looking at a wall. She looks at you and sees everyone who died fighting for the mountain.

On month four she sits next to you by the fire, and after ten minutes of silence you say, “Please forgive me.”In a voice that cracks and sounds nothing like your own.

All she says in response is, “You’re forgiven.”

Your eyes water, but you eat on without saying anything. When you get back to your home you sob.

\---

You find her outside one night, presumably on watch, but obviously too lost in thought to be looking for much of anything. She doesn’t notice you approach, so you take a moment to just watch her, moonlight dripping from her face like water.

Eventually she turns and sees you, and her face breaks into a small smile. “Hey.” She says, quiet, fast.

You smile back, just barely, “Hello Clarke.”

She rolls her eyes at your formal tone, but keeps up her smile anyway. “Sit with me?” She asks, and you oblige, settling on the cool ground next to her. She leans her head on your shoulder, and picks up your hand, tracing patterns on your rough, calloused palms. You turn your head to look at her, and she is staring up at the sky, the stars reflected in her eyes.

You look at her, and you feel yourself stumble. This time, you let yourself fall.

 ****  
  



End file.
